


home

by sherrybaby



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, M/M, Running Away, Sad times, Song recs, angsty, glad times, mentions of sonia kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 18:12:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12174078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherrybaby/pseuds/sherrybaby
Summary: Richie and Eddie have a sleepover, where secrets come out.





	home

**Author's Note:**

> I intended on this being short and sweet and fluff but then this came out instead so yeah fucking right. Angst galore because I solely listened to The Cure/the three songs listed when writing this. Upping their age to 15/16 so people don’t @ me for writing about normal human feelings. Songs are spanning years, not just 80s. 
> 
> This may not be what you were looking for, but I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> Recommended songs:  
> [Fast Car - Tracy Chapman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTIB10eQnA0)  
> [okay - elvis depressedly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Jscz0FXCkw)  
> [Walk With Me - Memoryhouse ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HXvy7IJFr8)

In a rare moment, Richie’s mom finally acknowledged him, though not for anything he had wished. She was convinced he’d drank the rest of her beer (he hadn’t) and smoked the last of her cigarettes (he had). She dismissed him with slurred parting words: ‘i don’t want to see your goddamn face until you get what you fucking owe me.’

She slammed her bedroom door and he waited in the kitchen until he heard the radio turn on, a sign she’d be passed out in seconds. He trudged to his small bedroom, flicking the light on overhead and surveyed the scene. Twin size corner bed, unmade. Clothes strewn along the floor. Band posters covering two walls. School books dumped unceremoniously in front of his bed. Vinyl propped up in a milk crate next to his record player, currently housing The Cure’s Seventeen Seconds.

Rich threw a shirt, jeans, and clean underwear into his backpack, falling apart from years of carrying school books during the day and a change of clothes at night. His eyes began to water and he hastily wiped them away with the heels of his hands. A lump in his throat formed and his face burned, but he carried on with his task. He hopped on his bike, figuring it was still early enough in the day to find one of his friends at the quarry or down in The Barrens, with no luck. He rode by Beverly’s house to see if she wanted to hang out, but her father was home and Richie didn’t want to deal with another abusive parent.

The lump in his throat had subsided by the time he headed to Stan’s house, but Stan was busted for breaking a window chasing his little cousins with a Nerf gun, Bill was at speech therapy, Mike had chores (Richie declined to help) and Ben was at the library, a place Richie wouldn’t be caught in.

That left Eddie. Rich didn’t spend a lot of time at the Kaspbrak household; Eddie’s mom gave him the creeps though he couldn’t really place his finger on why exactly. Maybe it was the death grip she kept Eds in. But Richie didn’t want to be alone and he’d be damned if another adult made him feel worthless today. Not to mention his long-suffering unrequited crush on the boy. Beverly knew- she knew everything about him- but she was the only one. He wasn’t ready to come out to the others just yet.

He dumped his bike in the front yard and headed up the stairs, taking a deep breath before knocking. Eddie answered almost immediately, like he was waiting just on the other side for this moment. 

“Hey Eds,” Richie grinned trying to keep his cool, feeling the stomach-flipping-warm-fuzzies he had every time they hung out.

“Oh, hey, Richie. What’s up?”

“Am I interrupting something? I can go,” Richie said taking a step backwards, feeling foolish at the tears rushing up; he blinked rapidly. If Eddie noticed he didn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes widened.

“No! Not at all, my mom’s just on her way home and I haven’t cleaned up the kitchen like she told me to. I thought you were her, she left her house key here.”

“I’m surprised she left you home alone. She’s not afraid you’ll accidentally drink bleach or break a leg walking through a doorway?”

Eddie grinned and stepped aside, welcoming Richie in.

“What are you going to tell your mom when she finds out I’m here?” Richie was sitting on the counter, feet drumming a pattern against the cabinet door, admiring Eddie’s legs in his short shorts. 

“She’ll get over it.”

“Ooh, I like when you take action, Eds,” Richie crooned, winking. Eddie shoved him, but a faint blush tinted his cheeks.

“I hate it when you call me ‘Eds.’“

The boys grabbed snacks and sodas and set up camp in Eddie’s room. The room wasn’t neat-freak organized like Stan’s, but not in a constant state of disarray like Richie’s. The walls were stark white, Eddie’s bed made (or, at least his blanket on his bed in the correct fashion, not balled up at the foot of the bed like Richie’s). Pill cases in order on the nightstand. One fanny pack hanging off of the closet door which was open enough to get a peek at the hanging shirts and pants behind it. A small mountain of comic books lay in a pile on the floor at the foot of the bed, his homework finished beside it. Richie immediately liked it; it felt welcoming and lived-in.

“What’s with the backpack?” Eddie asked as Richie shrugged the straps off, tossing the bag aside.

“Well I’m going on an adventure, aren’t I? See the world?” Richie launched into one of his terrible British voices but faltered, too exhausted to carry on. “I had to get out of my house. Might go to Stan’s later, see if I can stay the night.” That’s all Richie offered. He didn’t know why he was lying about Stan.

Beverly was the only one who knew the extent of his house of horrors, and vice versa. They never wanted to burden the other five with feeling as helpless as they did at times. Of course, the rest of the group knew his home-life wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t talk about it much, only offering little bits of information here and there, and they didn’t ask. They had told him time and time again they were there, and he appreciated it. He just didn’t know where to start. Asking for help was not one of Richie’s strong suits. 

“You can stay here.” The words knocked the wind out of Richie. He looked at Eddie, his worry reflected back at him. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Rich, I’m worried about you. And I’d rather you be here than out in Memorial Park,” Richie opened his mouth to protest but Eddie talked right over him, “and don’t say you haven’t because I know for a fact you have. Dogs piss in that grass, do you know how disgusting that is? PISS, Richie. I’m just sayin’.”

They heard a knock on the door, signalling Mrs. Kaspbrak’s arrival home, and Eddie ventured out to let her in and tell her Richie was staying over. She didn’t much care for the Tozier boy, or any of Eddie’s friends for that matter, feeling like the only friend he needed was her. But lately something had changed in her son, he became more bold. She still had him under her thumb but she could feel him slipping away little by little. She relented to Eddie’s demand.

The boys stayed up past midnight, reading comic books, trading jokes and insults before making a sleeping nest of pillows and blankets on the floor. Midway, Eddie turned to Richie.

“What’s really going on, Richie?”

“What do you mean?”

“With your parents.”

“Nothing,” Richie muttered, seemingly engrossed in his comic.

“Bullshit.” Eddie tugged the book from Richie’s hands. Richie didn’t meet his eyes. Eddie grabbed his face and turned it towards him, a mirror gesture of Richie doing the same in Neibolt. Eddie had needed him then, but Richie needed Eddie now. Richie clenched his teeth and Eddie felt his jaw muscles jump and flutter under his hands. Richie could tell Eddie wasn’t relenting, and it pissed him off.

“My mother’s an alcoholic and my father isn’t around much. Is that what you wanted to hear? How I don’t even exist to them unless it’s to buy booze or cigarettes or to be screamed at until I’m shaking? How I get home from school and have to put my mom’s cigarette out so she doesn’t burn down the house passed out drunk like Vern Tessio did last year? They identified him by his teeth. His fucking teeth, Eddie!” Richie was getting hysterical, teetering on the edge of a breakdown. “I’m just, I’m fucking tired of always being the funny one, the one who has to take everyone’s mind off of their own shit. I’m just tired of being alone.” 

And then Eddie opened his arms and Richie fell down, down, down. 

The waterworks came instantly, soaking Eddie’s soft t-shirt. Richie’s glasses were smeared with the tears and part of the frame was stabbing Eddie’s collarbone but he just hugged his friend tighter, gently kissing the top of his head, so softly that Richie barely noticed. 

After the sobs subsided into small hiccups, Eddie turned the radio on low, softly singing as he added another blanket for comfort. He ran his fingers through Richie’s curly hair, lightly scratching the scalp the way his mom did for him when he was sick and tired. Eddie gave Richie a sweater he soon realized had been stolen from him.

“Wait. This is mine!”

“Yup.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Your mother gave it to me after I gave it to her.” Eddie’s mouth twisted into a sly smile. Richie’s mouth dropped open in surprise and he let out a shout of laughter.

“Eddie Spaghetti Gets Off A Good One!” Richie put on his announcer voice before Eddie’s hand clamped firmly over his lips. His palm tasted salty, like the chips they devoured earlier, and Richie felt lightheaded wondering if Eddie’s lips tasted the same.

“Don’t fucking call me that, Richie.”

They crawled under the blankets and Richie stared at the ceiling, feeling a nervous energy surrounding him and he wondered if it was him or Eddie giving off that vibe, or a combination of the two. It felt alive, vibrant. If it were a color it would be yellow and pink and orange, red, the color of love.It felt tangible, and he opened his hand trying to catch it, maybe put it in his pocket to take it out and look at it later, holding it close when he felt lonely. He glanced over at Eddie and their eyes met and the distance felt immeasurable. 

Then there was no distance between them. Neither was sure who closed the gap, only that chapped lips were on smooth, Carmexed ones and this must be those sparks everyone talks about and they desperately held onto each other, fingers curling into the hairs at the nape of the neck, tracing jawlines, pulling off glasses and pulling each other closer. Needing one another. They drew apart, panting. Grinning too much for a second kiss. Eddie’s lips tasted like promise.

Richie closed his eyes first, fighting every step of the way. His body involuntarily rolled onto its side, away from Eddie. Light, quick breathing evened out as he began drifting- but not quite there yet- into a dreamless doze; a nice break from the nightmares that usually plagued his sleeping hours. Eddie moved forward, wrapping an arm around his boy’s waist.

“I won’t let you go though that again. You’re not alone now. I love you, Richie,” Eddie mumbled, relieved, into Richie’s hair, pulling him closer.

Richie grinned into the darkness. He finally felt home.

**Author's Note:**

> beepbeep-trashmouth @ tumblr


End file.
